mittee is this: you and Pratt must be excluded from the circle."

Weissmann echoed this. "Quite right! That we demand."

The clergyman's face hardened. "You ask the impossible. It is
necessary for me to be present at each sitting. I have the right to be
there as the historian of the case. Furthermore, I add to the strength
of the manifestations--that I have fully demonstrated."

"I appreciate your position, but in order to avoid criticism, to make
the tests perfect, it will be necessary to hold the sittings either
here or at Weissmann's, and to exclude every one connected with Miss
Lambert. In no other way can we convince ourselves or the public."

Clarke's face was darkly stubborn. "Then you will have no sittings. My
challenge will go forth next Sunday afternoon, and one of the
unchangeable clauses of that challenge will be this: the sittings must
take place in Pratt's library and I must be present."

"I hope you will not insist on that," Morton further urged; "for Miss
Lambert's sake you must not. To incorporate such terms in your
challenge will brand her as an impostor and you and Pratt as her
confederates. In this statement I think you will find her 'controls'
agreeing. They were undecided to-night, but when they consider
carefully they will see that my advice is sound."

Clarke's eyes were aflame. "You have my terms. Accept them or refuse
them, as you please."

Viola, returning, extended her hand to Morton with a trustful smile.
"I've had a beautiful evening."

"To say that after we have tied you hand and foot till you were numb,
and kept you in the dark all the evening, is very gracious of you. I
feel very much the brutal host. But you must come again. I swear Kate
shall not pester you next time."

Kate was indignant. "Well, I like that! when _you_ were the one crazy
to experiment. Of course they're coming, coming to stay to-morrow
night, and any one who dares to talk ghosts to her will be sent to
bed."

And so in a hearty, cordial clangor of farewells they got out into the
hall, and Morton, seeing Viola in her handsome cloak, her eyes
shining, her face once more gay and smiling, was again filled with
wonder at her astounding resiliency of mood. It was as if two sharply
differentiated souls alternated in the possession of her body.

Clarke, wearing a cape overcoat and a soft hat, was far less admirable
in appearance than when, with head uncovered, he sat within. He
resembled a comic picture of an old-